


Inspiration

by obiwankenboneme



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author!Kenobi, Editor!Reader, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6332413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obiwankenboneme/pseuds/obiwankenboneme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the editor of one Mr. Obi-Wan Kenobi, the reader has their hands full almost all the time. If it's not something with the publisher, it's something with the deadline. The reader is doing everything in their power to give Obi-Wan what he wants so he can put out his best work, but he's pressing too many buttons. Editors can only be spread so thin, Obi-Wan soon realizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> Another AU requested by some lovely cubs on my tumblr! If you guys would ever like to check those out, you can find them at anacornskywalker(.)tumblr(.)com. I hope you sun cubs love this as much as I do!

“What do you _mean_ you’re not at my office? Where _are_ you?” you snap, carefully maneuvering out of the parking garage of your apartment building.

Obi-Wan sighs on his side of the phone, resting his head on the brick wall of his apartment. “I’m at my apartment, Y/N. Listen, I get that you’re my editor, but I really can’t come in today. My inspiration is lacking and-“

“Don’t give me that shit, Kenobi. You’ve used every excuse in the goddamn book and I’m sick and tired of it. Either get your ass to my office or I’m coming to your apartment.”

There’s a pause, the crackling static of the phone line in your ear all you hear before Obi-Wan responds: “Is that a promise?”

Slamming your hand on the dash of your car, you know he heard it over the Bluetooth, and you make a U-turn, heading back towards his apartment. You’re absolutely seething, and if you weren’t trying so hard to be wary of people, you’d be at his apartment right then.

“I swear to god Kenobi, if you are not dressed when I get there, I’m ripping you a new one.”

* * *

 

Inside his apartment, you sigh and rub at your face. Obi-Wan is dressed for a day, just now how you would have liked him to be. He’s in ripped jeans and a t-shirt, clearly having only pulled them on after you had threatened him over the phone. Waving a hand at you and the couch beside you, he raises a brow – to show that you could sit – while he pulls out his notebook.

Taking a seat, you drop your jacket and bag beside you, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You had been in his apartment plenty of times, but this time was too close to the deadline. “Please tell me you’ve got everything ready for today. It’s due _today_ Kenobi, there are no more extensions. What do I tell your publisher if you don’t have at least the next few chapters ready?”

“That he’ll get them when he gets them and if he wants to rush my work, then he can forget our book and we’ll find another publisher. Very simple and straightforward darling, no need to worry,” Obi replies, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He says all this with an air of discontent, as if he couldn’t care any less about the situation at hand.

You open your mouth to tell him that’s insanity, but he merely glances at you over his glasses and you deflate. Of course he would pull this the day of the deadline. Flopping back against his sofa, you nod your head, looking around his apartment. It was still the same place you knew it to be the first time you came in. Same drab colors and modern chic look. Same brick walls that housed shelves and shelves of odds and ends and books. If you ever thought of an author’s house, you probably thought up something along the lines of Kenobi’s home.

“Do you need anything? Coffee or maybe some food? I know you usually only stock pile on beer when you pull all-nighters, and I have to make sure that my favorite author isn’t malnourished.”

Obi-Wan smiles at the comment, raising his eyes from the transcript in front of him. Putting the pen down, he leans his elbow on his knee, holding his chin in his open palm. “I thought I was your _only_ author. But yes, I’d rather like some coffee. And I have food, so don’t worry about that. I’ll take us out for dinner,” he offers. He lets out a hum of satisfaction, eyes going back to his papers as he grabs the pen from the table beside his chair.

You still at your spot by the door, looking back over your shoulder at Obi-Wan. You see that he’s not phased at all by his statement, and you swallow thickly. Right, okay, that was…he’s just being considerate. It’s not as if the two of you hadn’t gone out for meals before. It just always caught you off-guard that he was offering to take you out and pay. _They feel almost like dates._ Pushing that thought far back in your mind, you shrug on your jacket and open the door.

“I’ll be back with your coffee in a few minutes.”

“Thanks love!”

* * *

 

Staring at the transcript in front of you, you inhale sharply, looking up to see Obi-Wan making himself some tea. He seems completely nonchalant about this whole thing, but you were definitely _not_ in the mood for it. Beyond livid, you feel all the blood in your system reaching a boiling point. Without thinking, you slam your hands down on your desk, causing the cup of pens and pencils to shake and fall over.

Obi-Wan raises his head, still blowing on his tea without a care. His eyebrow lifts only a fraction, but it’s still enough to set a blazing fire in your stomach. “What is _this_?!”

His eyes drop to the transcript in your hand, stirring his tea and taking a seat in one of the chairs across from your desk. “It’s my transcript for the upcoming book. I’m thinking the title should be, “Stuff It”. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” He takes a sip, a mirthful smile on his face that causes your rage to reach all new heights.

“This isn’t a time for jokes, Kenobi! I…I can’t hand this in to the publisher! He’ll be furious, and we already are weeks behind schedule,” you hiss. Your pointer finger is pressing down on the transcript hard enough to leave a small indent, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Leaving the papers on your desk, you run your fingers through your hair, pacing back and forth behind your desk. _I have a crazy person for an employee._ _He is going to run me out of business and leave me without a single thing to do about it._ The only editing work you could do for this transcript was throw it out if you were completely honest. It was a blatant stab at the fact that Obi-Wan was being “forced to write against his will and own sweet time” – his words from the actual transcript, not your assumption. Which wasn’t true, but you knew he was blowing it out of proportions to get to everyone that would see it. _Especially_ you.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Obi-Wan’s fingers are brushing away the tears on your face. Staring at him, you step away, anger still hiding under your skin. _He can’t just be sweet and act like everything is fine._

“I can’t give this to them Obi-Wan. Why do you do these things? Why is it that every goddamn time I ask you to do something simple, you can’t? I ask you to just stay on schedule and you have to fight me!”

He opens his mouth to defend himself, but you hold up a hand to shut him up. “I’m not finished. I’m your _editor_ , and you act like I’m nothing more than some lackey to you. I want you to put out your best work, so I do everything in my power to help you with your writing. I get you coffees and go out to dinners with you. I make sure all your clothes are taken care of and I try my damn hardest to keep you happy even if it means I’m dying inside.”

Taking a deep breath, you grip at the edge of your desk, all tense muscles. Obi-Wan is reminded of the tigers in the cages at the zoo, ready to pounce if provoked. While it’s an image that frightens him, he’s caught up in the beauty of that thought. _How similar they are to a tiger. Both in beauty and in rage._

“ _Why?_ Why can’t you just hand in something on time and decently for once?! This entire work is a breach of your contract with the publisher and I can’t give it to him or else they’ll stop publishing your work, and it’s going to be difficult to find someone to do it if you’re such an ass to all of them! Plus, word spreads fast in publishing houses. Likely no one will want to take you on,” you snarl, taking the transcript and tossing it at him.

He’s shocked, honestly, and you’re a little caught off guard yourself. The papers hit his chest and fall right to the floor, fluttering like leaves. Your eyes dart to the pile of papers that are on the floor, your heart breaking. Even if it’s the shittiest excuse for writing Obi-Wan has ever given you, he still _created_ it, and that’s something you can’t step on. Dropping to your knees, you start picking up the papers, tears growing worse and clouding your vision.

“Y/N, stop. Please. I need to talk to you,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his voice close to your right ear.  

Letting out a shuddering sob, you nod, shaking hands folding against your chest, clutching the papers there. Strong hands help you stand, and Obi wipes away the tears, handing you a tissue so that you can get the rest. He leads you to your chair, having you sit down and taking the papers from you. “These are shit. I know it, and you know it, and they’re not worth picking up.”

He drops the papers back on the ground, kneeling in front of you. Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, convincing himself of something before carrying on. “I apologize for all the things I’ve recently done. For the transcript that I brought in and for the pain that I’ve caused you. I realize that I’m one of the few authors you are currently working with, and I’m your favorite.” You laugh at that, and no matter how terrible it sounds, it makes him smile. “The point is, I’ve not thought about you as my boss and editor, and how hard you work to make everything turn out the way I’d like it. I’m grateful for the coffees you bring me, and how you always check in to be sure I’ve slept when I’m crunching to get a plot point down on paper.

“The thing is, I finished the actual transcript ages ago, and I’ve been playing as if I haven’t merely because I want you around. Very selfish reasons, but I’m an author and a lot of time, that’s all we can be. I enjoy your company, and you give me some of the best inspiration that I could ever have. My point is, I care for you, much more than just editor and author. I wanted to tell you all this before giving you the actual transcript so that you wouldn’t hate me as much.”

He wraps up his confession, staring at you from his place on his knees. Sighing exasperatedly, you lightly smack his cheek in an affectionate manner. “You put me through far too much strife, Kenobi. You’re giving me gray hairs and I’m not even thirty yet,” you complain, taking the new transcript from him.

Setting it on your desk, you turn back to face him, licking your lips. “Those nights we went out for dinner, or you ordered in…those weren’t because of inspiration, were they?”

Obi-Wan’s cheeks erupt in pink, and he looks away, standing up and brushing off his pants. “Some of them were. Mostly they…were for my own personal gain I suppose. I like spending time with you, and taking you out to dinner felt like having a date. It was foolish of me, and I’m sorry that I dragged you into that. It was uncalled for.”

You grab Obi-Wan’s hand, tugging him back towards you. His head turns as you stretch up and kiss him softly, smiling when his eyes widen in shock. Pulling back, you shake your head and pat his cheek again. “You are one foolish author. Now go do something so I can look over this. We can order Chinese for dinner tonight.”

Obi smiles dreamily at you, nodding his head. Kissing you one more time before he leaves, you laugh to yourself. That man is going to write an entire book on just that one kiss, you can already tell.


End file.
